


Christmas Get Together

by mandarin1820



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Just bros being bros, Modern AU, No Slash, i love all of them with all my heart, not 1970s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:16:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandarin1820/pseuds/mandarin1820
Summary: The Queen boys have a Christmas Party where they get each other new onesies and Freddie's not too happy about his...





	Christmas Get Together

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic so bare with me!  
> This does take place in a modern setting.  
> I literally wrote this at 2am, but I think it's kinda cute so here you go!

“Freddie, you can’t hide in there forever.” Brian lightly taps on the bathroom door and glares at Roger who was dying of laughter on the ground, almost wheezing now. 

“Well I can damn try!” Freddie’s muffled voice sounded wounded. “Where did you even get this?” Roger tries to talk, but it ends up coming out as a hysterical sob and whimper. 

“Stop laughing you haven’t even seen me yet.”

“I know, but- but I keep picturing you-“ Roger doubles over again, falling onto his side and curling into a mess. Freddie was silent on the other side. Brian gives Roger a stern look, and waits for him to calm down and get off the floor.

“Fred, listen, we all look ridiculous so why don’t you come out here so we can get the festivities started, hm?” There was some more silence, before the door is being unlocked and a tiny crack in the door with Freddie’s flushed face.

“I look stupid.”

“We all do, you’re fine.” Fred sighs heavily and whips the door open, like a band-aid. Roger shrieks with delight and Brian has to look away to hide his snickers. John had walked down the hall at just the right time to see Freddie in an uncomfortable-looking peach onesie with a butt-flap and in big bold words in read ‘SANTA’S FAVORITE HO’ and to add the frosting on the cake, a sexy Santa in a speedo on the butt-flap. The way the peach was Fred’s skin tone made it look as though he wasn’t wearing clothes. John did a double take and Roger was back on the floor.

“I hate all of you.”

“Honestly, it’s not too bad,” Brian starts, Freddie raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘please explain’. “It’s not! I think it’s just the hype Roger added to this entire situation made it funnier than it is.” 

Freddie stomps his foot and storms into Brian’s living room, mumbling about how he should’ve known they would do this, and how he shouldn’t’ve come. 

“Fred, if you don’t want to wear it that bad- “

“No no. I’ll wear it.” Freddie plops down on the couch, legs and arms crossed.

“That-that sounded passive aggressive.”

“Nope no no. I have to wear this stupid thing because otherwise I’m a party pooper, right? I’ve never been a party pooper and never will.” The couch dips beside Freddie to see Roger sit down next to him and lay in his lap. Freddie usually would mess with Roger’s hair, because he knew it made him purr like a cat and it made him giggle, but not now. He was stiff with Roger’s head in his lap comfortably now. 

“Yeah you would be a party pooper.” Roger smirks at his reaction. 

John and Brian enter and John rolls his eyes. 

“If he wants to take the damned thing off, let him.” Roger pouts and crosses his arms.

“No I wont let him until at least the Grinch is over.” He states, looking at the TV screen lighting up to the previews. Freddie groans.

“I actually hate you. I got you a nice and cute reindeer onesie and you get me this.” Roger looks down at his onesie with the brown and white spots and cute tail. He pulls up the antlers and smiles. 

“Would you hate me less if I got you a snack?” Freddie’s eyes light up and he pats the head in his lap.

“Yes, darling I would hate you much less.” Roger smiles wider and sits up and heads to the kitchen. 

John enters soon after Roger and they both start bustling around making food and drinks. By the time they get back in the living room, the movie had already started. Brian looked ridiculous in his onesie as it had wiener dogs in Santa hats all over it. John’s wasn’t too bad. He got one with mistletoe on it (Brian has been trying to get everyone to kiss him at least once, Roger got him on the arm in the kitchen causing a pan to fall the ground and making Freddie yell from the living room to ‘shut up!’).

“I got you hot chocolate with a peppermint, ‘cause it’s good like that.” Roger gently sits next to Freddie again and plants the drink in his hands along with a peppermint.  
“Thank you, love.” Roger hums in acknowledgement. They begin to watch the movie (kind of) as Roger settles back to his head in Freddie’s lap and this time, Freddie’s fingers entangled in his hair. (‘I swear to god Roger I think you’re part cat’). 

Then the doorbell rang. Roger jumps and touches his nose as fast as he can.

“Dibs not!” he screams. Everyone follows suit; Brian next then John, lastly was Freddie.

“Is it pick on Freddie day today? Why didn’t I get the memo? Would’ve stayed in bed.” Freddie rolls his eyes and stands up to stretch. Horror then suddenly struck his face.

“My onesie. I can’t answer the door like this.” He states and frantically looks at his friends for agreement. 

“Sorry Fred, we don’t make the rules.” John stands as well and slaps him on the shoulder as Freddie begins to pace and trying to get them to change their minds (‘I’ll bake you Christmas cookies! The good ones that all of you like but are hard to make!’ ‘We know you’re gonna make those anyway!’) The doorbell rings again and Brian starts pushing him towards the door with much restraint from Freddie. 

“Come on don’t be a poor sport.” 

Finally they get to the door and Freddie hesitatingly looks at his friends then at the door again. Brian gives him a look and he opens it. His face immediately reddens as bright as a tomato. 

It was a pizza delivery man (a cute one at that). His eyes immediately wander to the onesie and he flushes as well. 

“My eyes are up here bud.” Freddie says embarrassed and almost amused. The pizza man’s eyes widen slightly and reads the receipt. 

“One Hawaiian and one Pepperoni?” Freddie’s eyes then widen. That’s what they get every time; a Hawaiian (only Freddie and Brian like Hawaiian) and pepperoni. One of those idiots called Dominos and made sure he went to the door in this outfit. This was the day he was going to kill them.

“I guess that right, yeah.” He clears his throat and pays. Pizza man gives him the two pizzas. “Thanks.”

“No thank you.” Pizza guy says and smirks slightly at the onesie one more time before Freddie closes the door. As soon as the door was shut he screeched. 

“Alright who’s ready to die tonight?!” he hears snickering from the kitchen. Freddie quietly tiptoes to the kitchen and hears them giggling silently. He suddenly slams the door open and Roger screams and jump half a foot in the air, John whips around too fast and fall on his butt and Brian immediately tries escaping to the living room. 

“Who did it?” He lividly asked. He must’ve looked insane because Roger was shaking his head and backing away and John was getting up real quick, still rubbing his tailbone. 

“Freddie, it wasn’t me I swear!” John starts. “It was Roger! He did it!” 

Roger whips around to John looking mortally wounded that John threw him under the bus like that.

“JOHN.”

“He told us it would be funny!”

“JOHN!”

“Oh, he thought it would be funny, huh?” Roger was practically shaking at this point (I don’t think he was truly scared, more trying to keep his laughter in). “How funny would it be if I stuffed some Hawaiian pizza down your throat?”

“Noo I don’t like it- “

“I don’t like this onesie but sometimes you have to do things you don’t like, yes?” Roger squeaks and sprints into the living room, Freddie right behind him with a pizza slice in his hand, pineapple and all. 

“Now, open wide!”


End file.
